


Party

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's disappointed when Harry doesn't give him a birthday present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> Gift for Yellow Jubilee.

Draco’s strutting through the door before Harry’s even fully opened it, letting in all the cold evening air. Harry can smell the alcohol from where he’s standing, and he mumbles, “Birthday party went well, then?” as he closes the door and re-locks it.

“You didn’t come,” Draco says in a strange mix of accusation and desire, but he grabs Harry’s wrist and drags him off before there’s any time to explain.

Harry had a good reason for not going, really. He worked it all out with Goyle, who threw the party, even the early end. Harry isn’t exactly surprised that Draco showed up on his doorstep, (although it does throw a bit of a wrench in things) because early endings are not exactly Draco’s style. ...Especially not where alcohol and attention are involved. It’s his day, and Harry imagines he wants to draw it out as long as possible.

When they reach the bedroom, Draco shoves Harry hard onto the bed. Harry bounces in the blankets, lifting up on his elbows as Draco predatorily climbs over him, hissing, “I want my birthday gift, Potter. I thought you said you wanted to try and be friends?” (With benefits.) “Friends give each other birthday gifts...”

Harry worms his way back until his head’s at least in the pillows—Draco follows, still straddling his waist. When Draco sits down, it rubs their crotches together, and Harry moans despite himself.

Draco draws a finger down Harry’s fly, hissing, “Do you have a nice, big gift for me, Potter? You know how much I do like big things...” Two more fingers join it, caressing Harry’s growing bulge with definite skill. Another two fingers and Draco’s fully cupping him—Harry gets hard as a rock almost immediately. Draco makes a mewling sound in the back of his throat, practically moaning, “Is this it? So nice of you to wrap it for me...” His grey eyes flicker up to Harry, bright and burning, and he asks quietly, “Can I unwrap it?”

This... isn’t going at all how Harry thought his night would. He could’ve guessed that Draco would’ve shown up, and if he hadn’t Harry would’ve gone to him—but it wasn’t supposed to happen for another hour or two, when the reservation was ready and Harry was properly dressed. As it is, he’s just in his t-shirt and jeans, and Draco looks far too fuckable in his tight, black faux-leather trousers and form-hugging turtleneck—Harry wonders vaguely if Draco wore that all party—if he did, Harry really missed out by not going...

Harry nods weakly, even though they do have a reservation. Even if Draco doesn’t know about it. And of course he has a present. It’s just a better one than he usually gives Draco and required a bit more planning. But if Draco wants a quickie beforehand, Harry’s hardly about to stop him. Harry licks his lips. If he wants this night to go right, he better make sure it’s truly a quickie. He’ll have to start explaining. He opens his mouth to try, but his words bite off in a languid moan when Draco suddenly unzips him.

“Mm,” Draco mumbles, “What a huge present you have for me, Harry...” He runs his fingers lightly up the shaft as he pulls it out properly, and it hits the front of Draco’s own tenting trousers. Harry never thought he was particularly large, but Draco often tells him he is, and he figures Draco would know better than him. He doesn’t have much of a frame of reference—Draco’s the only other man he’s been interested in. ...And he just thought Draco had a particularly tight ass. Draco bites his lower lip and hunches his shoulders as he purrs erotically, “How ever did you manage to fit it in the package? No wonder you didn’t put a bow on it—is there even ribbon out there long enough?” Harry gasps as Draco gives him a little squeeze, but he gasps even louder when Draco scoots back and bends down to lick it, flicking his tongue lightly over the top.

Harry moans and immediately shoots his hands down, but Draco moves his head before Harry can shove him onto it properly. Only when Harry drops his hands away does Draco return to kissing it, lapping lightly at the sides and sucking a bit on the tip. Harry watches with utter fascination—there’s no sight in the world hotter than Draco enjoying his cock. Draco sucks on it like it’s his favourite meal, cheeks flush and eyes half-lidded, pupils dilated. He licks up all the precum before he leaves, straightening back out.

Harry whines at the loss, but he shuts up as soon as Draco starts fiddling with his own fly. Draco dips his voice in an alluring, fake innocence as he pouts, “I don’t know how we’re going to fit something that gigantic inside me, but I guess we’ll just have to try... it’s my birthday, anyway; I deserve to get stuffed full of big, fat presents...” He only pushes his trousers down mid-thigh, clearly too impatient.

Harry reaches out for him, mumbling distractedly, “There’s lube in the desk.”

But Draco bats his hand away, purring, “Don’t be stupid—I got ready before I came here. ...You think I’d be dumb enough to try and put something like that in me without the proper preparation?” He smirks winningly, lifting his hips to hover over Harry’s cock. “You underestimate me, Potter.”

Then he sits down, impaling himself on Harry’s dick. It shoots up inside him in one quick motion, past his parted, dripping walls, and Harry can feel the lube, but it’s still tight as hell. Harry tosses his head back and screams at the immediate pleasure—Draco moans just as loudly. His full weight drops down, thighs tight against Harry’s sides, Draco’s own cock and balls falling onto Harry’s stomach. Draco’s hard himself, and Harry reaches down to grab him, wanting to help.

Harry bends his legs so he can thrust properly up into Draco—Draco gasps at the unexpected invasion. He whimpers before he tries to move, mumbling hotly, “It’s okay that you didn’t show up and give me anything.” His lashes are fluttering, eyes closing, not quite looking at Harry. His voice is quiet but thickly coated in sex, and he continues, “Your cock is the only present I wanted anyway.” When his eyes open just a sliver, there’s a faint hint of disappointment in them, but it’s hard for Harry to be sure of that with Draco’s body so hot and tight around him.

Harry shifts his other hand to hold Draco’s side, trying to be reassuring, but Draco picks up immediately and slams back down, making Harry writhe in pleasure. Draco does it again, again, until he’s bouncing up and down on Harry’s dick, his hands pressed forward and splayed on Harry’s chest. He rocks back and forth and moans beautifully, head thrown back and pale hair slick against his forehead. Draco rides cock like a dream, and it’s several more thrusts before Harry manages to say something.

He means to be soothing. Instead, he mutters distractedly, “W... will you go out to dinner with me...? I was... gonna... oh... give you your present there...”

“Dinner?” Draco’s head tilts, and confusion knits his brow, but he keeps going. He keeps up the rhythm, keeps fucking himself on Harry’s cock. He’s unbelievably tight, and it makes it borderline impossible for Harry to completely concentrate. The air is heavy with raunchy slapping sounds and panting. Harry half expects Draco to get mad at him for talking about something as inane as dinner during amazing sex, but then, they do have reservations, and he’ll be madder if he finds out Harry let him miss them. A couple more thrusts, and Draco settles on growling, “All my friends already left—the birthday was hours ago.” Something sullen creeps into his voice, but he keeps going.

Harry shakes his head—half to say no and half to clear it. Fuck, Draco’s hot. He never lifts himself fully off—just enough so that only the head’s inside, then he slams back down so hard that it’s perfect. He weighs practically nothing, but every ounce he does have is heavy atop Harry’s cock, adding to the force of the falls. It’s absolutely amazing. Harry’s panting as he manages, “Er, not... not as friends... I meant like... like a date—it’s why I asked Goyle to end it early... so I... so I could take you out properly, but... oh, fuck—right there... but I didn’t think you’d show up this... fuck, early...” It’s so hard to be coherent with Draco looking as hot as he is, hard in Harry’s hand and tight around his cock. Harry wonders vaguely why the fuck they’re still clothed. Damn Draco’s impatience—they should’ve undressed first... he wants to tear every shred of clothing off Draco’s slender body and lick every square centimeter...

Draco looks so confused that Harry half expects him to stop. Instead he goes harder and faster, bouncing wildly, enough that it’s hard for Harry to keep stroking him. “You want to be... oh, _ahh_... more than... than friends with...” He doesn’t even get out the last word—his face screws up in another moan. Harry already knows he’s hitting the right angle—Draco’s such a sex kitten and always finds it himself. When Draco’s eyes flutter open again, they’re absolutely burning.

Harry just barely breathes, “I want to really be together.” His own hips are lifting off the bed, trying to meet Draco each time, trying to slam them together with as much pressure as possible. Draco seems to appreciate it. “Will you... will you go out with me...?” Because this is fucking amazing, and the thought of not having Draco has kept Harry up one too many nights. The fact that Draco goes home after sex drives him mad, and the idea that someone else might get to wake up to Draco’s face in the morning is enough to make Harry accidentally blow the windows out.

Draco’s mouth opens soundlessly for a minute—Harry’s heart almost stops. But that’s as much from the ecstasy of Draco’s tight ass as it is from the anxiety. A minute later, Draco moans, “Yes. _Yes_.” And then he absolutely screams, tossing his head back wildly and coming all over Harry’s hand and shirt. His walls spasm wildly around Harry’s cock and it’s completely unbelievable—it’s unadulterated rapture. Harry comes undone a moment later, and he reaches out to grab Draco’s hips and hold them down as he comes inside Draco’s perfect body. Draco stays obediently still while Harry’s hips fuck it out, milking out every last drop. Draco takes his cum so well. Draco shivers and winces when it’s too much, but he takes it and he looks so _hot_.

When Harry gently pulls Draco off a minute later, Draco whimpers like he doesn’t want to move. Harry’s cock slips out with a wet pop, dragging a trail of cum and lube with it that instantly starts to trickle down the inside of Draco’s thighs.

Draco lunges forward to hug Harry, making Harry ‘oomph,’ at the impact. Draco crushes him down into the bed, arms reaching beneath him to hold him tight. Harry takes a few more minutes for his head to come down from its high. He pats Draco’s back while he waits, panting so heavily it’s a wonder he’s still conscious.

Then Draco murmurs, “That’s just what I wanted,” into the side of his neck and shifts up to kiss his cheek.


End file.
